


Just Sayin'

by CalumSmiles (dreamforlife)



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Because she had a dream ;), Birthday fic for a friend, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3475925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamforlife/pseuds/CalumSmiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You know, it would be so easy to find you in the snow with that red hair."</p><p>Michael startles, turning around with something very much like a shriek. </p><p>Lexie is standing in the doorway, grinning, dressed in black jeans and a really warm looking jacket that Michael wishes he had because he's very quickly feeling the biting cold down to his bones. </p><p>"Fuck, don't do that," he says, breathing out roughly. </p><p>"You scream like a girl," she says, closing the door behind her and walking up next to him. </p><p>Michael scoffs, "I do not."</p><p>Lexie raises her eyebrows, "Yeah. You do."</p><p>"I don't like you, all you do is insult me. I'm insulted." </p><p> </p><p>Or, the one in which Michael is at the snow and there's girl, a lot of falling, a stint in a hospital and a bunch of shenanigans that end at the Teen Choice Awards. Calum just thinks Michael is aiming far too high and Luke and Ashton are far too amused by all this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Sayin'

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! 
> 
> Well, it's the second Het fic I'm posting on Archive and although this one is SIGNIFICANTLY longer than the other, both were written for friends' birthday.
> 
> So, I would like you all to know that this was written completely with Loretta's help even though she hates me for it XD 
> 
> So, Happy belated birthday, Loretta ;) 
> 
> Enjoy! :)

Just Sayin’

 

Michael has a problem. 

It's a problem that comes wrapped in a thick black coat with a fur hood and biting sarcasm with a bow made of utter scepticism that is very strangely appealing to him. 

So yes.

Michael has a problem. 

Because. Okay not to sound rude but he doesn't normally run with girls who are smart, like...he really doesn't mean it in a nasty way like—okay he sounds like a fucking arsehole but he has a point that he's getting to.

So his point is, not a lot of girls with brains are all that interested in him, being a musician and all, and having dropped out of school etc. etc. 

He's not the studying type...and well, music was and is the only thing that agrees with him. The only thing he'll work his arse off for. And besides, he's a fucking dickhead when he wants to be, when he feels like it, he knows that. Or rather it's been drummed into his head by Ashton—oh he's so funny—because he's always on Luke's back. 

Anyways. 

So the girl he runs into, literally runs into, at the Woolworths an hour outside the Thredbo ski fields kind of fascinates him. 

She's not tall; actually, she's kinda tiny compared to his height and it's actually really cute; and her hair's pulled up into ponytail and Michael thinks that she's maybe possibly Asian but then again he'd thought the same thing when he'd met Calum and boy, that had not turned out to be pretty. (It involved skittles and a hair dryer.)

But Michael notices all this in the split second that he looks up from his phone—he's texting Luke about a song he had come up with at two am (it sucks)—before crashing into the poor girl and sending her staggering. 

"Holy shit," she groans, rubbing her arm, "What the hell?"

Michael realises that he's holding her wrist when she glances down at his hand and up again. 

"Uh, sorry. Wasn't looking." He says, grinning, sheepish, fingers sliding into the rough strands of hair at the nape of his neck underneath his beanie. 

The girl smiles, a quick tilt of her lips, "Uh, it's fine." 

Michael blinks slowly, shuffling on his feet, "Yeah..."

She raises an eyebrow before turning back to the shelves in the aisle--cookies, macadamia and white choc chip. Michael considers marrying her for a split second and shut up okay, food is love and life--and he gets the silent  _shoo_  clearly. 

But somehow his feet refuse move. 

The girl sighs, quietly and slightly strained, and turns back to him. 

"Look, I get that you're Michael Clifford, but uh, if you want me to scream or cry, it's not happening."

And Michael is seriously considering proposing. 

He grins, rubbing his chin and glancing around, "That's the best thing I've ever heard in my life." 

" _No_ ," the girl says with a roll of her eyes, "The best thing  _you've_  ever heard is the offer you got to support One Direction." 

"So you do know about us." 

"You guys are splashed across the front page of every news blog, site and paper." The girl grabs a packet of the cookies and a pack of chocolate chip ones. She looks at him, face blank. "An idiot would know who you are." 

Michael's having a very hard time controlling the grin that's splitting his face in half. 

"Alright then, I'll let you go," he says, not wanting to anger her further, even if her being angry was like a kitten without its ball of thread. Damn adorable. 

But he says none of this out loud because he values his balls, likes them the way they are, undeformed and fully functional. 

She just turns around and walks the other way. 

But as Michael eyes her, she stops, groans and stalks back to him. 

"Could I please get a video of you saying hi to someone?" 

"Sure."

The girl taps her phone, holding it up, "Her name's Issy...go."

Michael grins at the lens, waving, "Hi Issy, it's Michael from 5 Seconds of Summer. Hope you're doing well and hope to see you soon! Bye!"

"Thanks," the girl says, smiles, and then turns around and walks away. 

Michael just snorts quietly and makes himself walk away in the opposite direction. 

He completely forgets to buy the aftershave and cereal he came for and trudges back grumpily to get them a few hours later. 

 

*

 

Michael is loitering around the lobby of the ski lodge he's at, aimless and bored, because his friends had ditched him for the perfect slopes outside, it having snowed over night. 

He's texting Calum pointless things; a picture of the fire in the lobby, a long message comprised entirely of eggplant and kitten emojis.

So yes. 

Michael is bored.  

"Mum, I'm not going to some kids party," a voice hisses, and Michael looks up, interested. 

His eyes widen when he realises that it's the girl from Woolies. 

"Mum, I'm nineteen, not nine!"

"It's not a kids party," the mum says, and then proceeds to yell at the girl in what Michael assumes is Chinese. 

The girl is dressed in a black dress and heels, hair out, and Michael thinks she looks cute. 

It's then that she looks in his direction as she groans. Michael catches her eyes and raises an eyebrow. She freezes, just for a second, staring at Michael blankly before she glances at her mother and a small grin crosses her lips. 

Michael sits up curiously, takes his feet off the couch, fingers curling around his phone. 

"Mum, I have a friend, okay, you can go to your cocktail party. I won't be alone. See, I have him. It's fine." The girl says, and Michael almost chokes on his spit when she gestures towards him. 

Her mother is dressed in a mid-calf length, dark blue dress with small heels with perfectly matched jewellery and  _somehow_  Michael can't see her approving of him, with his red hair, leather jacket and tattoos. 

She may be a small lady but the one look she gives him kind of makes him want to shrivel up on the spot. 

Michael sends a pointed glare at the girl who stifles a grin just as her mother swivels back to her. 

The mother talks in rapid fire Chinese, gesturing wildly in Michael's direction, and the girl listens patiently before shooing her mother in the direction of the lodge's bar with a "you're late, dad is waiting for you, I'll be fine." 

Michael watches with still wide eyes as the girl turns around and walks back towards him, a grin cracking her face in half. 

She sits down on the couch opposite him. 

Michael opens his mouth to ask her what the hell she was thinking when she bursts into a fit of laughter. 

He blinks at her, watching the way her eyes turn into slits, crinkles at the side, the way her laughter kind of endearingly sounds like she's choking. 

"Sorry," She says eventually, breathless and still chuckling, "The things she said about you, I just—"

Michael huffs a breath, "Well, I am certainly not your  _friend_  any more if I'm going to be insulted."

The girl is towing in lungfuls of air, but she stops laughing. 

"Hey, I'm sorry, but she was about to make me go to this horrendous lunch party for a bunch of kids at the lodge. If it weren't for you, I'd be stuck with twelvies."

"So you should be grateful that I was around, then," Michael says, lips tilting to the side as he sits back and crosses his ankle on his knee. 

The girl raises an eyebrow and Michael holds up his hands.

"Sorry, sorry." He says, grinning, "But it is true."

"I'll accept that when you're not here, Michael." She says but she's smiling and Michael fist bumps himself mentally. 

"Hey, you know my name so you need to tell me yours." 

"Lexie," the girl says, tugging her hair up into a pony tail, "Lexie Chung."

"So you are Asian," he says absently, thinking back to Calum. 

"Unlike Calum, yeah, I am," Lexie says, and there's a look on her face that makes him curious, a weird sort of knowing glint in her eyes.

"I was literally just thinking the same thing," Michael says, grinning, "Wow, he got so pissed because everyone back at school thought he was Asian. It was fucking hilarious." 

"Yeah, I do remember that." 

Michael laughs, before he stops abruptly. 

"You--wait, what?" His eyebrows furrow as he frowns at her, "Remember--you  _knew_  Calum?" Michael stares at Lexie, wide eyed, as she makes a face, mouth twisting down. 

"Yeah. I knew him."

Michael raises his eyebrows at the shortness, and purses his lips as a grin threatens to spill over.  "Wow...and how long did you... _know_  him?"

Lexie's face clouds over, frustration obvious in the tick in her jaw. 

"I...we were family friends, okay, it's not like I dated him," she huffs finally after a pause, "Why does  _everyone_  assume that?"

Michael laughs openly, and goes to reply just as his phone chimes with a message from Calum. 

It's a long line of pissed off emojis with smoke blowing out of its nostrils and a " _FUCK_   _OFF_ " that has Michael in tears over coincidental timing. 

He taps out a response through his laughter, hiccupping and wiping away tears. 

_So you know a Lexie Chung?_

"Sorry," he says to Lexie, who's looking at her own phone, "Calum is an idiot."

"You're all idiots," she mutters as she taps furiously on her own screen before she suddenly looks up, cheeks red, "Uh...sorry."

But Michael's laughing too hard to be offended. 

He really likes this girl. He likes the fact that she's not a massive fan of the band, that she throws things right back in his face. It's refreshing and hilarious. 

Lexie's phone starts ringing just as Calum's reply comes. 

"Sorry, I gotta take this," Lexie says, standing up, "I'll see you later."

Michael waves a hand, "I'll probably be around here."

She smiles as she walks away, phone pressed to her ear.

Michael watches her pony tail swing from side to side and only realises that he's grinning manically when his cheeks start to hurt. 

He looks down at his phone, thumbing open Calum's reply. 

Or all three of Calum's replies. 

_How the hell do you know that?_

_Fuck don't tell me she's at the ski lodge_

_Don't fuck with her Michael, she's too smart for you_

Michael snorts at the last one. 

Thanks for the confidence, Cal, really. 

_Fuck u Cal_

 

*

 

Andy, Tommy and James had coerced him out of his shared room with Tommy, away from his laptop and the song he was fiddling with, and into a game of poker. 

He was losing. Badly. 

"Oh bloody hell," Michael groans, throwing down his deck, "This is a stupid game."

Andy snorts, "Only cos you're losing, loser."

Michael glares at him. 

"Don't be mean, Andy," Tommy says, chiding, but there's an amused look in his eyes and Michael rolls his eyes. 

"Yeah,  _thanks_ , Tommy," he mutters as he gets to his feet, "I hate you both."

James throws a card down calmly and pulls the entire stack of Ferrero Rochers towards him. 

"I love you guys so much," he says, laughing amidst the raucous protesting, "I win."

Michael snorts, pulling a middle finger at Andy and heads for the door with a "see you wankers later."

He's barely out when something hits him at the back of his head. Turning around, he finds James leant into Tommy's shoulder, laughing silently. 

"I hate you too." 

 

* 

 

He trudges down to the lobby, grumpy and annoyed, wishing he could go back up to his room and pick up the guitar. But  _no_ , Andy had taken his key card and hidden it in his pants. And he didn’t particularly feel like sticking his hands down Andy’s pants. God-fucking-dammit.

It's heading towards six in the evening and the lobby is too crowded for Michael to even consider staying there. The only crowds he likes are at the shows. 

So he wonders down the hallway and finds a room that is blessedly empty.

There's a grand piano in the corner near a floor to ceiling set of French doors. Evening sun glints off the polished black wood of the piano and lights up a comfortable looking couch on the other side of the room.

But he heads for the French doors instead, closing the zipper on his jacket. 

It's freezing outside. 

Michael leans on the railing and looks down over the pine forest. 

The sun is low on the horizon, the sky  a dark velvet purple flowing into a dusky rose and burnished gold closer to the sun and Michael feels a weird sort of calm.

The drumming in his fingers melts away as he breathes out slowly, his breath condensing in white curls of smoke. 

He thinks back to the song he was trying to write, to the awkward mess of lyrics in his notebook, the disjointed verses, and one line stands out. 

_Tell the truth and I'll show you how to dare_

His lips curl slightly, because he really likes that lyric. There's something about it that really gets to him. He doesn't know the tune of it or where it'll fit in the song...but he really likes it. 

He has an idea but it'll have to wait till he gets his key card back. 

"You know, it would be so easy to find you in the snow with that red hair."

Michael startles, turning around with something very much like a shriek. 

Lexie is standing in the doorway, grinning, dressed in black jeans and a really warm looking jacket that Michael wishes he had because he's very quickly feeling the biting cold down to his bones. 

"Fuck, don't do that," he says, breathing out roughly. 

"You scream like a girl," she says, closing the door behind her and walking up next to him. 

Michael scoffs, "I do not."

Lexie raises her eyebrows, " _Yeah_. You do."

"I don't like you, all you do is insult me. I'm  _insulted_." 

She chuckles, " _No_ , your ego is bruised." 

Michael pouts. 

Lexie rolls her eyes. Again. 

"What're you doing here?" 

He shrugs, "Trying to think of a way to fix a terrible song I wrote. You?"

She nods in the direction of the room, "Piano." 

Michael lights up. "Play for me?”

"No chance in hell."

He grumbles. "Why do you hate me?"

She laughs, "Because I know way more about you than I ever needed to know. My friends are in love with you guys. Well, I say in love but I mean obsessed with."

Michael grins, "This...Issy?"

Lexie nods, "Oh yeah. She almost combusted when I sent her the video." She makes an unimpressed face. "I need new friends."

"Hey, I'm glad they like us, okay," Michael says, "Our fans are cool. Which makes you uncool."

Lexie scoffs, "Please. I'm more punk rock than you four could ever be."

"Yeah, obsessing over cute animals is the new punk rock," Michael says, smirking when she gapes at him. 

"How the hell--who told you that?!"

"Calum."

"Oh my god, I haven't spoken to him in almost four years. How does he even remember that?" She exclaims, voice going high at the end. 

Michael is laughing, the sound full and happy, "Oh my god you're like an angry kitten, you're adorable." 

She glares at him. 

"Still not scary," he says through laughter. 

"I hate everyone."

Michael hums, grin still firmly in place, "Sure you do."

Lexie sighs. "Ashton would've been nicer to me." 

Michael fakes an offended gasp, "Excuse you, you're not very nice either, Lexie."

"Because you're annoying. And you have red hair." 

"That's a fucking terrible excuse," Michael says with a snort, "Calum told me you spilt Apple juice over him once." 

"Not on  _purpose,_ " She protests, rubbing her hands together, "And I was seven! Can we go inside please, it's freezing." 

"Yeah," Michael says, blowing out a breath, "I think my hands are about to fall off."

They close the doors behind them, suddenly surrounded by hot air. 

Michael groans as he stretches his fingers out, "Oh my god, it feels like someone's sticking pins into my hands. And I think my face is frozen. Fuck fuck fuck fuck."

"Don't swear."

He scowls at her. "I could lose a hand from frostbite and I  _need_  my hands for my fucking job. I'll fucking swear if I want to."

Lexie shakes her head, tucking her hands into her pockets, "Find a new job."

"You're just bitter because people like me."

Lexie just rolls her eyes. 

Michael huffs, "So what're you doing anyway? Uni?"

Lexie nods, "Combined actuarial studies and law."

Michael is taken aback for a second, because what the fuck is actuarial studies and why the hell would anyone combine anything with  _law?_  

He's googling this shit as soon as he gets to his room...

But he laughs, "Okay, well, Ms Smarty Pants," he says with jazz hands for extra emphasis, "While people need you to sort out their messed up lives, people look for music to get them  _away_  from their messed up lives."

"They still have to crash back down to reality and face their problems. You can't just avoid your messed up life forever, at some point you'll have to sort it out." Lexie says with a pointed look. "Music is great but it's not going to solve everyone's problems."

"But it'll let you escape for a while." 

Lexie opens her mouth to talk but Michael cut across her. 

"You know I'm going to argue about this until you give in, right?" 

She groans, "Oh my god, I'm just gonna go. I'm leaving." 

Michael grins, "Gimme your phone." 

_"Why?"_

"Because you hate me," he says, and he feels a bit strange for giving that as a reason but he really likes this girl. She's interesting and obviously really fucking smart...Michael needs to re-evaluate his life.

Lexie looks like she's about to protest and Michael lets his smile soften into something nicer.

"Please?" 

She stares at him for a few long, painful seconds, dark brown eyes unreadable, until she throws up her hands. 

"Okay, fine. Whatever." 

Michael has a second to celebrate before she tosses her phone at him. 

He opens up a new contact and thumbs his number in and sends a text to himself. 

"I'll text you." He says, "You can go now."

"Oh thanks for giving me your permission," Lexie rolls her eyes and then she stops, looking at him suddenly before a grin grows across her face. 

"What?" Michael asks uncertainly, worry gnawing at his stomach, "Why're you  _looking_  at me like that?" 

"What're you doing tomorrow?" 

"Nothing, why?" 

Lexie tips up onto her tiptoes before dropping back to the ground, grinning, "Brilliant. Okay, so my mum and dad have something or rather all day tomorrow and she wants me to join some kids club thing which is for  _twelve year olds_. I'm  _nineteen_  for gods sake! Anyways, will you go skiing with me tomorrow so I have an excuse not to go? Please?" 

Michael freezes. 

Oh fuck. 

"Uh, sure, I'd love to." He blurts out, smiling. "It'll be fun."

"Thanks, dude," Lexie says, grinning, "I'll meet you in the lobby at ten. See ya!"

Michael stays rooted to the spot as Lexie swings out the door, her hair trailing behind her, reminding Michael of Pocahontas. 

Shit. 

 

*

 

"Why the fuck did you say yes, you _idiot_?" 

Michael groans into his pillow as Calum huffs in exasperation over Face Time. He slurs pathetically into the fabric. 

"Mikey, fucking text her and tell her you can't bloody ski! You're going to  _humiliate_  yourself out there," Calum says, voice tight like he's holding back swearing at Michael right and left, "Also, see that word, humiliate. Good one, eh?"

Michael raises his head to glare at the lens, "Fuck you. I can't tell her that  _now_. And I don't care about you swallowing the bloody dictionary." 

"Wow. You actually like Lexie, don't you?" Calum says, and there's something like a mix of amusement and disbelief in his tone, something soft in his eyes, "I haven't seen you lie to a girl since Hayley in year six. C'mon, what the fuck did she do to make you like this?" 

Michael bashes his head against the pillow over and over again. 

"I swear she hates me," He says, muffled into the pillow, "Like she always says something to cut right over me," he flips over, staring at the roof, "And she's so fucking smart, like, I looked up what the fuck actuarial studies was and its maths. It's all  _maths_. And she's combined that with fucking law! Like who the fuck does that? She's fucking crazy, Calum." He starfishes on the bed, "I like her. Fuck."

It's completely silent for a few seconds and Michael looks over at the screen only to see Calum laughing, silent and in tears. 

"Oh fuck you. It's not fucking funny!" 

"It--oh my god, you might as well marry her, I've never seen you like this. Not even with Hayley in year six." Calum gasps out, giggling, "This is brilliant and I can't wait to tell Luke and Ash."

"I hate you, you're useless. What the fuck as I supposed to do tomorrow?"

Calum smirks, flopping backwards into his bed. 

 

* 

 

Andy and James react exactly like Calum, leaning on each other and cackling like fucking hyenas. 

Michael glares. 

James sits down next to him, patting his shoulder, and speaks quietly, "Don't listen to those wankers. Look bro, just go, but don't die out there. Take it slow, don't rush. That's important. You'll be okay." 

Michael highly doubts that he'll be okay.  But it's the thought that counts. 

Michael smiles at him, dropping an arm over James' shoulders, "This," he says loudly and pointedly, "is why, James, you are my favourite."

"Brilliant. Now bring me a signed copy of the Madden brothers record next time," James says, grinning and pokes Michael in the side. 

Michael leers at him, "Fucking saint, you are. Sure. I'll get it."

"You're a doll, Mikey," Tommy says in a fake accent. 

He throws a pillow at Tommy's face. 

 

*

 

Michael's phone chimes with a text close to eleven in the night. 

(He's alone, because Tommy had rolled his eyes, picked up his pillow and gone to the other room when Michael had opened his laptop and put on his headphones. 

"Really, dude, you're gonna write now? Don't forget to sleep, you have a date tomorrow." He had stuck his tongue out as he slipped out the door. 

"It's not a date!")

Michael had switched off the lights and thrown open the curtains as soon as the door closed behind his friend. 

The window faces the ski fields, the runs lit up with long lines of lights.

The atmosphere is inspirational, with the stars set in a sea of midnight blue and the lights below, both chasing away the darkness in the room. Michael had sat back and gazed out the window for a while, a warm sense of nostalgia squirming in his stomach. 

He wishes that the other boys were here, too see this, to revel in the silence and beauty of the night. Ashton especially loves nights like this; where the air is quiet and the sky is dark, lit with stars, and you just feel happy to be alive, grateful that you're allowed to live your dreams. 

(Truth be told, it felt really weird being here without the boys. 

They had finished a world tour a month and a half ago so they had been living in each other's pockets for almost nine months. 

He always finds himself looking for Luke's run-away shirts or Calum's underwear winding up in his suitcase or Ashton leaving his bandanas everywhere. 

It's a bit disconcerting sometimes, not having Luke or Calum climb all over him, not having Ashton pull him out for a walk to Nando's. 

They're all so bloody co-dependent that it's like losing a limb when the others aren't around. And it's not like the others feel any different. 

The band is strong because of their friendship and Michael wonders, when he's up at those early hours of the morning when the light is still grey, what'll happen when one of them gets a girlfriend one day, gets married, has children. 

It's a strange thought, that, to have one of the boys not constantly around him, it's very strange. 

But Michael usually winds up shutting out the future ahead of two years because it terrifies him. To think that the band could be over. 

He always, without a doubt, calls Ashton when he sinks too far into his own mind. Ashton's good at working things out, at distracting you with some random story to make you laugh. Michael really appreciates that.) 

Tonight though, he has a different distraction.

He reaches for his phone sitting on the bedside table, setting his guitar on the bed. 

 

From: Lexie

_I have red hair? Really? That's what you named yourself? You couldn't think of anything more creative?_

 

Michael chuckles quietly into the dark, the white light of his screen stark on his pale skin.

 

To: Lexie

_It's not a lie is it_

 

The reply is almost instantaneous. 

 

From: Lexie

_No apparently not_

_You're an idiot_

 

For whatever reason, the warm feeling in his stomach intensifies and he feels a little sick. 

 _Love sick,_ Calum’s voice leers in his head.

 _Fuck off,_ he growls silently.

 

To: Lexie

_:(_

_Y r u awake?_

 

From: Lexie 

_I'm stating facts, Mr I have red hair_

_Because I'm nocturnal_

 

Michael settles back against the headboard, thumbing out a reply. 

 

 

To: Lexie

_So ur an owl_

 

Lexie takes longer to reply this time but it's worth the wait when it comes. 

 

From: Lexie

_It means I'm wise like an owl_

_Unlike you (snail emoji)_ _  
_

 

Michael grins and bites at the corner of his bottom lip.

 

To: Lexie

_I'm plenty wise thank u_

_Snails are cool_

 

From: Lexie

_Is that why you're dyeing your hair so much it's going to fall out?_

_Snails are gross_

 

He snorts, pouting at the screen. 

 

To: Lexie

_I'll dye my hair as much as I like_

_I'm special_

_Unique even_

 

From: Lexie

_Specially screwed_

_Seriously, you won't have any hair left in like ten years_

 

To: Lexie

_Sounds a lot like u care_

_Aw_

_ILY_

_;)_

 

From: Lexie

_Just expressing concern from my friends pov_

_This has nothing to do with me -__-_

 

Michael laughs out loud at that. 

 

To: Lexie

_Don't throw ur friends under the_

_Not cool_

_Admit it_

_U care ;)_

 

From: Lexie

_I do not -_____- you could lose all your hair and I'd still sleep well at night_

_I'm going to sleep_

_Ten, lobby, tmr_

_Night_

 

He laughs even as something burns between his lungs, churns in his stomach, aches in his chest like a balloon expanding. 

 

To: Lexie

_Gnite_

_See u tmr_

_Pls, u care_

 

From: Lexie

_I do not_

 

*

 

Michael startles awake at nine forty three the next morning. And he  _really_  should _not_ have stayed up till three. 

He checks the time and swears, stumbling out of bed and tripping over his shoes. 

Michael barely has time to swallow a cup of coffee before he jumps into an elevator and makes it down to the lobby. 

He spots Lexie near the reception desk. 

"Hey!" 

Lexie looks towards him and smiles, "Oh thank god, let's go before my mum tries to talk me into not skiing with you."

Michael grimaces, "She really doesn't like me, does she?"

"Not really, no."

"Try to soften the blow, why don't you."

"Nah. You can take it."

 

* 

 

They grab the gear and make it up to the fields with no major incident. (That is, if you don’t count Michael almost stacking it over the skis and when he almost whacks Lexie in the head with his skis.)

It's when they put on the gear--Michael sneakily watching all of Lexie's moves before doing his own--and get on the ski lift that Michael regrets ever saying yes to this entire thing. 

The lift creaks and their feet are dangling off the seat and Michael swallows nervously. 

He’s a fool.

But nothing happens, the lift doesn't stop halfway up the hill and Michael doesn't fall off, and they make it to the top.

"You ready?" Lexie asks, fixing her goggles and grinning. 

Michael nods weakly, staring at the slope, eyes wide behind the goggles. 

He is so fucked. 

"You go first," he says, "I'll follow."

She shrugs and jumps, sliding across and down the snow like she was born to do it. 

Michael grinds his teeth, heart racing, because he is about to  _die_. 

He takes a deep breath and pushes off. 

And holy shit this is so much slipperier than it looks and he can't do this properly he's actually going break his neck and wouldn't that be a funny headline Michael Clifford dies in skiing accident because he couldn't tell the truth to a girl and holy fucking shit that's a person avoid the person shit—shit and—

His ski gets caught in whatever the hell it is, and he tumbles, headfirst, at the speed he's going at, and it's like his brain just shuts down and he throws his arm out just before he hits the slope, and despite the wind rushing in his ears, he hears the crunch twist snap of his wrist and the pain fizzles out bright sparks in his brain. 

Darkness falls over his vision like an broadening vignette on a photograph.

 

*

 

Michael opens his eyes to a white room, a little hazy around the edges. 

He feels  _awesome_. Kinda feels like there's liquid sunshine flowing through his veins. It's  _sick_. 

"Michael." A soft voice says, "Michael?"

He turns his head and there's a figure surrounded by glowing white light, a woman, leaning down to him. 

Was this heaven, then? Is she an angel? 

"Are you an angel?" He slurs, smiling wide, "You look like an angel."

The woman chuckles, "Oh my god you are so high on painkillers. Wow." 

"You have a pretty smile," Michael says dreamily, smile doped out, "Preeeeety smile, so preeeeettty." 

There's a round of choked laughter but Michael keeps smiling. 

He feels so good right now. It's like a better version of being on stage. He’s _kill_ to feel like this all the time.

"I think you'd better knock him back out. He's completely out of it." 

His eyes drift shut even as his smile stays in place. 

"Bye bye, pretty angel." He manages before he drops back into unconsciousness. 

 

* 

 

His head is killing him by the time he comes around, and he breathes in hard, groaning. It smells like antiseptic. He  _hates_  the smell of antiseptic. 

"What the fuck..."

It's bright when he manages to open his eyes and he whines, tries to bring his hands to rub his eyes but finds that his right hand won't move. 

He blinks, opening his eyes, and a white room comes into focus.

"Michael?" 

He frowns, looking to his left, "Lexie?" 

His jaw  _aches_. 

"So you don't remember," she says, laughing. 

"Remember what?" Michael mumbles through a yawn that kills in his jaw. 

"Nothing. Not important.”

Lexie's sitting in a plastic chair, next to what looks like a hospital bed, _his_ bed apparently, with a weary smile on her face. 

"How're you feeling?" 

"Like..." Michael looks down at himself, eyes widening when he sees his right forearm in a cast and siting in a sling, and remembers the fall. "Like I've fallen down a ski slope." 

Lexie laughs but it's not amused, sitting up, "You have a broken wrist, fractures to the bones in your forearm, a heavily bruised jaw, and a few cuts and bruises.”

Michael gapes at her. 

Lexie nods, eyes serious. "You've had surgery on your arm. It's been set, so it should heal properly."

Michael flops back into the pillows, touching his head tentatively with his left hand. 

"Oh fuck that hurts," he grumbles, stroking along his hair line. 

"Yeah, I would avoid touching yourself." 

Michael raises an eyebrow at her and she blushes at the same time she scowls. 

"Shut up." 

He grins. 

"And, uh, Michael?" 

He looks up at her, at the sudden change in her expression to an apologetic one, the concern in her eyes, and his smile drops as he swallows. 

"Yeah?"

She hesitates, before standing up, "You can't play for a while..." 

It's like time freezes, Michael stops breathing, staring at Lexie. 

"How," His voice breaks. He clears his throat, "How long?"

"Two and a half months." 

His head feels like Ashton is drumming on it, pounding like feet on a pavement, buzzing like someone had taken a jack hammer to his brain, and his vision spins. 

"I'm sorry," He hears Lexie say, "I'm really sorry." 

"We have a ton of shows in America next month," he says quietly, "Fuck." 

There's a hand on his left shoulder and he looks up at Lexie who smiles at him nervously. 

"Shouldn't have asked you to come skiing with me." 

Michael snorts, and then winces because that hurts his head and his jaw, "S'my fault. I should've told you I couldn't ski." 

"You can't ski?!"  Lexie's face clouds in anger, her eyes dark. "Why the hell didn't you tell me? You could've died! _Oh_ _my_ \--Jesus  _Christ_ , Michael!" 

He cringes, "Sorry...I just didn't want to say no." 

"Oh." Lexie stops, staring at him, before scowling, "Still, you idiot, we could've done something else! I can't—you're so much more of an idiot than I thought you were."

Michael can't help but grin. 

"Well...you're cute and I like you. Couldn't say no." He confesses, biting his lip. 

Lexie's mouth drops open.

He laughs. And then immediately regrets it as pain shoots across his jaw. 

"What?" He says, massaging his jaw with light fingers, "It's true." 

"I'm--why is my life a fanfic?" Lexie says, blinking. "I am  _never_  going to hear the end of this." 

Michael can't keep the grin off his face and fuck his bruised jaw. 

"So, since I can't ski any longer, how about we do something else? Smores by the fire?" He asks, biting his lip, nerves fluttering in his stomach. 

Lexie is quiet for a moment. "Um. Is this--"

"A date?" Michael interrupts, and ironically he feels his cheeks heat in a blush. It probably doesn't look all that great with his hair. "Yeah. It's a date." He smiles sheepishly. "Only if you want it to be," he adds quickly, just to be safe. 

Lexie looks down, stares at her shoes, and Michael watches as a blush blooms across her cheeks. 

"Lexie?" 

She looks up, clears her throat, looks everywhere but at Michael before she nods, her eyes fixed somewhere above his head, hair swinging over her shoulder, "I...uh, okay. Sure." 

Michael grins, "Fuck yes."

Lexie gives him a small smile but says nothing. 

"So," he says, looking around, "Where am I, exactly?" 

Lexie settles back into the chair. "We're at the base hospital an hour out of Thredbo. The ambulance brought you here and well, I kinda had to come with you." 

Michael smiles, "Thanks."

"You're welcome." She says. Her fingers fidget with a lose thread on her jumper. She looks at him, a small grin on her face. "Besides, I had to make sure all this stayed off the internet, that no one got pictures of you looking like that, famous pop star. Of course, knowing that, they made your surgery a priority." 

Michael grimaces, "Oh god. Don't remind me please...I'm so fucking screwed. And thanks again."

Lexie shrugs, "I fished your phone out of the snow, by the way. It's still working. I also called Calum." 

Michael groans loudly. 

"Why would you do that?" He whines, kicking his legs, "He's going to cut off my dick. He told me not to do this."

Lexie laughs, "Well, Calum is very pissed off at you and promised a very bloody revenge. I think he might break your other arm." 

He groans again, hiding behind his left hand. 

"I hate you." 

She scoffs. "Someone had to tell your best friends that you almost died." 

"I didn't almost die. I'm  _fine!_ " 

"You have a bloody broken arm and you can't play the guitar.  _That_ is not _fine_." 

Michael closes his eyes and drops back into the pillows. 

"How long have I been in here?" He asks, voice dragging and morbid. 

"It's close to midnight, so you've almost been here twelve hours." Lexie states, checking her phone, "You took forever to come out of the anaesthetic."

"I'm surprised my friends haven't filed a missing persons," Michael mumbles. 

"Oh, uh, yeah someone named Andy called and I said you were a  _little_  busy." 

Michael snorts a laugh, eyes still closed, "He's going to kill me too."

"So basically a lot of people want to kill you." Lexie says with a chuckle, "Well, that'd be a shame. I was just starting to like you." 

Michael cracks open an eye to look at her, "Aw, thanks. I feel a whole lot better." 

"Mr Clifford?" 

A doctor walks into the room, a warm smile on her face, before Lexie can reply. She looks away, but he spots the tiny smile pulling at her mouth. 

Michael peels his gaze away from her and opens both eyes, "Hi."

"I'm Doctor Ray," the lady says, "I'll just test your vitals and give you a prescription for some painkillers and as long as your feeling okay, you're free to go." 

Michael sighs in relief. That is, before a flashing question burns into his mind. 

"Uh, doc, how long till I can play the guitar again?" 

She hesitates, checking her chart, "I'd say, at least four weeks for your arm to heal and well, Mr Clifford, your wrist is rather fragile at the moment. I'd say two months just to be safe because there's quite a lot of pressure on your wrist from your job, as I've been told." 

Michael closes his eyes, despair pooling at the pit of his stomach, throat tight. 

A warm hand grips his shoulder. 

"Thank you," Lexie says. 

"I'm really sorry, Michael," Doctor Ray says, pursing her lips. "Let me just check your vitals and you are free to go."

Michael can't hold back the frustrated tears that pool in his eyes as soon as the door closes behind the doctor. 

"For fuck's  _sake_ ," he mutters angrily, tears hot on his cheeks, "Fucking fuck's sake." 

"Michael--"

"No, please don't." He says, his voice drawn tight like a bow string. "I just. This just sucks, you know." 

Lexie sighs as he wipes away the tears with his left hand. 

"Hey, your clothes are hanging up in the bathroom," she says quietly, after a few long, silent moments, "Go get dressed and we'll get you back to the lodge." 

"Yeah," Michael breathes out slowly, smiling weakly at her, "Yeah, okay."

 

*

 

They part ways in the elevator, when Lexie hops off at the third floor. 

He stops her before she leaves. 

"Uh, if your parents aren't too angry at you, would you like to go on that date with me tomorrow?" 

She smiles, warm coffee brown eyes shining under the hallway lights. "Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow."

Michael returns the smile and leans in to kiss her cheek softly before he loses his nerve. 

"See you tomorrow, then." He whispers as he pulls back. 

Lexie falters on her feet before she turns around and walks away. 

Michael lets the elevator doors close and turns around before a huge, manic grin spreads across his face. 

He feels high on more than just painkillers. 

 

* 

 

When he gets back to the room, his friends ambush him. He's surprised that they're still awake considering that it's almost one in the morning. Their voices rise in simultaneous anger which comes to an abrupt end when they notice the state he's in. 

Michael bites back a laugh at the gobsmacked looks on their face.

" _Hey_ , guys." He says with a wave of his left hand, "How's it going?"

Michael watches as their eyes move from the sling to the bandage on his forehead and the various band aids on his arms and the huge purple bruises on his jaw. 

"Oh my  _god_ \--did you dive headfirst down the slope or something?" Tommy is the first to burst out, springing up from the bed, "Holy fuck, man, how the hell did you manage  _this_?"

Michael rolls his eyes, pulling down his hood as he drops onto his bed, "No, one of my skis got caught on something. I fell. Broke my wrist, fractured the bones in my arm, bruised my jaw, etc. etc." 

"Jesus, man," Andy says, "How're you feeling?"

Michael groans as he shifts on the bed, "Like my painkillers are wearing off." 

James sighs, "Tommy, there's a pack of neuyrofen in my bag. Go get it, bro." 

Tommy gets up and leaves without a word. 

"Well, that's a first," Michael says, blinking in surprise at the closed door. 

Andy snorts, "First time for everything."

"Dude, you've got a bunch of shows next month, what the fuck's going to happen?" James asks, leaning forward onto his knees, "You going to have to cancel?"

Michael sighs, dropping his head back onto the headboard, and stares at the ceiling. "Yeah, guess so, dude. I gotta call the other boys. Calum's going to kill me."

Tommy comes back in, "Dude. You can worry about your fabulous career tomorrow. Just take two and go the fuck to sleep." 

Andy whistles, "Wow. Ready to have children, mum?"

Michael chuckles as Tommy chucks the pack of painkillers at Andy's head. 

James picks up the box with a roll of his eyes and hands two and a bottle of water to Michael. 

"Come on, Andy, let Tommy go and let's get out of here. Michael needs to rest." 

"Yes, mother," Andy says, getting off Tommy, "Sleep well, Mikey." 

The two of them leave and he's left with Tommy. 

The other boy smiles encouragingly at him. "You'll be fine, bro, yeah? Just sleep for now. Deal with career issues tomorrow." 

Tommy slides into bed and switches off the lights. 

"Thanks, mate." 

"Anytime." 

Michael stares at the roof in the sudden darkness. 

"If I have a career by tomorrow," Michael mutters to himself as he closes his eyes. 

 

*

 

Michael is woken up the next morning by a blinding pain in his arm. 

He doesn't realise that he's groaning out loud until Tommy drops to his knees next to his bed. 

"Mikey, mate, Jesus, what's wrong?"

Michael moans as his wrist throbs inside the cast, tears lining his eyes. 

"Wrist," he whimpers, "Fuck."

Tommy drops back to Michael's bedside with neuyrofen as tears bleed down his temples and soak into his hairline. 

Michael shakes his head, back arching as his wrist feels like it's being broken again. 

"Hoodie." He gasps, "Left pocket. Two." 

Tommy is up and back down in what seems like record time, forcing Michael to sit up slowly and drink the painkillers. 

He passes out soon after as the pain intensifies. 

 

* 

 

He wakes up to hushed voices what feels like hours later, groggy and confused.

"We should go home," a voice says, "He shouldn't stay here." 

"Yeah, dude," a second voice murmurs, "The boys need him back. They'll have to sort out things with management."

A third voice speaks up. "So we'll leave as soon as he's okay to move."

It's silent for a while before the second voice speaks again, something choked in the tone. 

"Fuck, you guys--you should've seen him. It was like he was being tortured...I haven't seen Mike cry since that time Nate broke his Xbox in year seven." 

"Tommy, he'll be okay." 

"Yeah man, Mikey's strong. He'll be better soon."

"Mikey would be a lot better if you lot would stop talking and let him sleep," Michael says, voice hoarse, as he opens his eyes warily. He smiles at the three sitting on the opposite bed. "Hey."

Andy grins. "Hey, mate, how're you feeling?"

Michael groans as he sits up, holding his head. "Like Ashton mistook my head for a drum kit." 

The boys chuckle. 

"Well, Ashton called this morning."

James says, nodding towards Michael's phone, "They're worried." 

"Bloody helicopter dad," Michael mutters under his breath, "Well, what'd you tell him?"

Tommy looks right into his eyes, expression half apologetic, half amused, "That you look like death."

"Oh  _man_ ," Michael whines, "Why'd you tell him that? He's going to go bloody ballistic when I get back." 

James scoffs, "And you deserve it for going on with this hare-brained scheme to impress this girl." 

"Who we haven't even met, by the way," Andy continues, raising an eyebrow. 

"We don't even know if she's good enough for you," Tommy adds pointedly. 

Michael sighs just as there's a knock on the door. 

Tommy frowns at it, "Did you guys order anything?" 

"Nope." James says, getting up.

He disappears down the small entrance hall.

Michael pulls a pillow behind his back and sits up properly as James opens the door. 

"Uh, who're you?" They hear him ask. 

"This is Michael's room, right?" A girl's voice comes. 

A grin grows across Michael's face. There's something warm in his chest, a tight ball of ecstasy in his stomach. 

She came to see him. 

"Lexie," he calls, and he knows that he sounds a little deranged, the way he's grinning like they'd won a Grammy, but he doesn't care. She came. "Let her in, James." 

Andy and Tommy are smirking at him but he ignores them as Lexie steps into the room. 

"Hey," he says, "You're awake." 

She rolls her eyes, "It's past  _noon_ , Michael. Decent people are awake before half the day is wasted."

He shrugs and pouts a little, "I'm injured, you should be  _nice_  to me." 

"I was plenty nice to you yesterday," Lexie says, sitting down at the end of his bed, "Pretty sure you were too high to remember anything." 

"Oh, by the way," she adds, studying the bed sheet, "Calum called." 

Michael groans, dropping his head back, "Is he planning to kill me? You should tell me if he is cos I'm just going to stay here if that's the case." 

Lexie laughs softly, "No," she looks up at him, brown eyes light and sad, and her voice is low when she speaks, "He kinda blames himself for not talking you out of it." 

His eyes widen as he straightens. "Oh shit, no. Okay I gotta get home. Calum deals terribly with guilt." 

"Well," Lexie says, "You need to leave as soon as you can. Preferably now. You have a lot of stuff to sort out." She shakes her head. "I cannot believe you were stupid enough to lie to me." 

Michael smiles, sheepish, "Well, like I said, you're cute and I like you." 

She huffs a sigh, smiling despite herself, "Go home, you idiot." 

"Must you insult me all the time?" 

"Yeah," she says, and her tone is actually  _teasing_ , "You have plenty of girls all over the world telling you how perfect you are. Someone needs to insult you." 

Michael blinks in mock surprise, "Is that--are you actually joking? Or am I hearing things?" 

Lexie makes an unimpressed face. "I think you need to get your ears checked. All the screaming is getting to you." 

He smiles, and it's loose and raw, genuine, for whatever reason. 

"I can hear just fine," he says, mouth pulling up at the side, "You like me." 

Lexie glances up at him and an answering smile tugs at her lips before she schools her face expressionless. 

Michael grins, because he knows he's right. She likes him, at least a little bit. 

She looks away from him abruptly and clears her throat before getting up off the bed. "Where the hell did you get that idea? We're leaving now, anyway, so I hope you get better. Bye." 

Lexie almost sprints for the door and Michael springs off the bed, almost falling over his own feet and ignores his snickering friends--whom he had forgotten about--and runs after her. 

"Lexie," he says quietly, as she opens the door. 

She turns around in the hallway, and there's something in her eyes that he wishes he could read. 

"Yeah?" 

Michael pokes his head out to look both ways down the hall. 

Seeing no one, he steps out the door and closes it behind him. (His friends are  _nosy_ , okay.)

"You do live in Sydney, right?" 

"Yeah...and?" 

Michael scratches the back of his neck. "Well, I still want to take you on that date..."

Several different emotions flicker on Lexie's face before it settles on a mix of disbelief and confusion. 

"You were serious about that?" She asks quietly, eyes a deep, clear brown, "I thought that was the painkillers talking."

"No, the painkillers called you an angel," Michael says with an embarrassed smile, cheeks on fire, "I, uh, I'd like to take you out." 

She's blushing a deep red, "I didn't think you remembered that." 

"I kinda dreamt about it last night...so, um, yes? Or no?" 

His fingers latch on to his cast, tampering with the edge of his sling as he waits for her answer. 

Lexie takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. 

"Yes," she says, a sparkle in her eyes, "I'd like that." 

The knot in his stomach unravels as the burning warmth in his chest melts, and it results in a smile that spreads across his face, unrestrained and happy. 

"I really do have to go, though," Lexie says, "My parents are waiting." 

Michael nods, smile not fading, "I'll see you soon. Text me." 

"Yeah, I will," she says, turning around, "See you." 

She walks a few steps down the hall before stopping and spinning back around. 

Michael raises an eyebrow at her. 

She runs back, leans up to press her lips to his cheek, and is gone before Michael can say a word. 

He stares down the empty hallway, the imprint of her lips burning on his cheek. 

"Well," he mumbles, "Okay." 

 

*

 

Michael gets back to Sydney that night. 

His mother yells at him before dragging him into a hug, her tears drying on his jacket shoulder. 

Michael hugs her back just as tight. 

The boys are waiting for him in his bedroom. His mother hadn't warned him. Michael figures that that's her punishment. 

Luke attacks him in a hug as soon as he opens the door, holding him tightly around his neck, and grumbling about Michael's utter stupidity into his ear. 

Michael smiles, wrapping his left arm around Luke's waist. 

"I'm okay, Luke." 

Luke drops his arms, crossing them over his chest instead, "You fell down a fucking ski slope. _Excuse me_ if I wasn't supposed to worry about you."

Michael rolls his eyes, patting Luke's shoulder as he turns to the other two. 

He opens his arms (or, arm) and grins, "Who's next?"

A pillow smashes into his face. 

He groans, holding his jaw, "Fuck you, Ashton." 

Ashton stands up from Michael's old desk chair, scowling, blonde hair stuffed under a beanie, hazel eyes narrowed. 

"Michael Gordon Clifford, you douche bag. You could've fuckin'  _died,_ you numbskull _."_

Michael sighs, an apologetic expression marring his face, "Look, I'm sorry, okay? Ashton, I honestly didn't go out to get hurt--I'm sorry." 

Ashton stares at him for several long moments, before he lets out a long breath. 

"Come here, you idiot," He says finally, his lips tugging up at the sides,  "Come gimme a hug. Was worried about you." 

Michael lets Ashton squeeze him, hooking his chin over his shoulder. 

"You fucking scared us, Mikey." 

"Sorry." 

"Let's hope this girl was worth it." 

Michael grins. "Oh she is."

Ashton lets him go, gestures not so subtly towards Michael's bed, and drops his voice. 

"We'll let you talk. He's convinced it's his fault."

Michael look at Calum curled up into a ball on his bed, sitting against the wall, and winces. 

"Yeah," he whispers, "Thanks, bro." 

Michael moves slowly across to the bed, climbs up tentatively onto the mattress, sitting next to Calum, back against the wall. Their shoulders brush together. 

The bassist says nothing. 

Michael huffs a small laugh eventually.  

"You know, you were right. Lexie is way out of my league.”

Calum still says nothing. 

Michael sighs internally. He needs something bigger, something to shock Calum into--AH. 

"She kissed me." 

The words are no sooner out of his mouth that Calum jerks forward, gaping at Michael. 

_"What?"_

Michael sniggers. "Okay, she kissed my cheek." 

 _"What?"_ Calum blurts out again, eyes wide _._

"What? Ask her, she did!" 

Calum falls back down next to Michael, his back thumping against the wall. 

"Oh my god...I didn't think you were her type. Jesus. So she's into bad boys who aren't really bad boys with tattoos and red hair and an obsession with kittens. Huh."

Michael backhands Calum in the chest with his left hand. "I  _am_  a bad boy." 

"Oh yeah, staying inside your man cave and playing Xbox all day is so badass." 

They both burst into laughter, giggling  for no particular reason other than that they're both ridiculous. 

When their laughter eventually trails off, Calum sniffs and drops his head on Michael's shoulder. 

"I'm really sorry this happened to you," He says quietly, his voice low and guilty, "I shouldn't have told you to--"

"Cal," Michael squeezes his best friend's knee, "It's not your fault. It's mine and I'll deal with it. Don't blame yourself." 

Calum lifts his head, tangling his fingers together. "I should've talked you out of it." 

"When can you ever talk me out of anything?" Michael asks significantly, gesturing at his Fly To The Moon tattoo and they both laugh, "See? So it's not your fault, okay?" 

Calum sighs heavily. "Maybe." 

"C'mon. Let's order pizza. I'm severely deprived of cuddles and pizza." 

Calum rolls his eyes but gets up all the same. 

As they head down the stairs, Calum pokes Michael's cast. 

"You're telling us all about Lexie while we eat or I'm breaking your other arm. Also, I'm signing your cast first."

Michael grins. "Gentleman don't kiss and tell. And sure."

"Fuck off, she wouldn't have let you kiss her." Calum scoffs as they enter the living room. "And you're no gentleman."

"He's right," Ashton says, grinning, "You aren't. So what happened with this girl?" 

"Nothing," Michael says but the apparently lovesick grin on his face gives him away. 

"Bullshit," Luke declares cheerfully, "Talk." 

"Shouldn't we be talking about the shows next month?" Michael flounders for a change in subject, glancing at the door, wondering how far he'd get before he was dragged back. 

"We have tomorrow for that," Ashton says, and his grin reminds Michael of a shark as his canines glint under the lights. "Start talking." 

Michael scowls. "What if I don't?"

"I'll tell Lexie about the time you thought the pebbles in that bowl were brown M&Ms and tried to eat them and almost died." Luke says with an innocent grin. 

"You don't even know her."

"But Calum does."

Michael glares at Calum, "I hate you." 

"I love you too." 

 

* 

 

When Michael eventually blinks awake the next morning, there's a text from Lexie waiting for him. 

It's already a brilliant morning. 

Wow. What a sap he is. 

Nope. No, he's punk rock. He's not a sap. 

(Except. He so is.)

 

From: Lexie

_Hope the boys haven't killed you_

 

Michael laughs a little too loudly at that. 

He types out a message with his left hand and God, it's so much harder than with two hands. He tries to type  _fortunately_  but gives up when he spells it wrong too many times. 

 

To: Lexie

 _Luckily for u I'm alive_

 

He leaves his phone on his desk and goes to pee. 

Everyday things are harder with one hand. 

Okay, he is  _not_  wearing jeans until he can move his arm. Fucking zippers are impossible. 

There's a text lighting up the screen when he gets back. 

 

From: Lexie 

_How're you feeling?_

 

To: Lexie

_Whole new respect for ppl living without a hand_

_Typing is tiring_

 

He presses send and he pulls on a flannel shirt through his left arm and leaves his right sleeve hanging, shirt resting on his shoulder. 

Downstairs, his mother has laid out weetbix and milk. 

"Thanks, mum." 

She messes up his hair as she walks past him to the sink, "Morning, Mikey. Sleep alright?"

"Yeah, arm hurts but I'm okay." 

His phone chimes as he takes a seat. 

 

From: Lexie

_Well you're not exactly the physical type are you_

 

Michael almost chokes on his WeetBix. 

Coughing, and ignoring his mother's curious look, Michael thumbs out a reply. 

 

To: Lexie

 _I'm plenty physical thank u_

 

 

From: Lexie

_I'm going to pretend I can't see the innuendo in that_

_You guys sorting out next month?_

 

To: Lexie

 

_Yeah we are today_

_Ugh_

_I hate boardrooms_

_They suck_

_More like bored rooms_

 

From: Lexie

 

_Admittedly, that is a good one_

_Well, have fun while I go to the beach and enjoy the weather_

 

"Michael, stop texting your girl and eat your breakfast. You have a busy day." His mother taps his shoulder, "C’mon. You can flirt later."

"I'm not--how'd you know about her?" Michael demands, setting down his phone after replying. 

 

To: Lexie

_I h8 u_

_Gtg_

_Mum's grillin me_

 

His mother chuckles, "Michael, dear, I'm your mother. I know everything." 

"Ashton told you, didn't he." 

"Yes he _did_." His mother winks as she walks out of the kitchen. "Don't blame him, I'm very persuasive."

Michael drops his head, the bench top cool under his forehead. 

He calls after her. "You bribed him with your sugar cookies, didn't you, mum?"

"'Course." She yells from upstairs. "That boy loves those things." 

"I hate Ashton," Michael moans into the bench top. "And I hate sugar cookies." 

 

From: Lexie

 _As if you'd ever go to the beach_

 

*

 

Management aren't altogether ecstatic when they find out. But excuses are made and Michael is forgiven for his idiocy.

(Michael still maintains that he doesn't regret it. It was kinda worth it. But he never says this out loud lest Calum actually break his other arm.) 

They end up having to postpone the US shows till halfway through next year. 

When their Twitter account releases the info, the fans wreak havoc, most of them very upset and others rationalising that there must be something wrong for the boys to make such a big decision at such short notice. 

It's when Luke makes a rare Instagram post on a random Tuesday in June with a picture of a pathetic looking Michael clutching a teddy bear and scowling at a laughing Ashton that things settle down. 

At least until the get well messages, flowers, teddy bears and cards start flowing in. 

The guest room in their house very soon smells like flowers and paper. 

 

* 

 

The sling comes off four weeks after Michael gets home and he feels like a free man when he stretches out his elbow to yawn. 

"Oh, yeah, that feels awesome," Michael says, smiling around another yawn, "I can finally wear jeans again." 

Luke snorts from where he's bent at the DVD player in his living room. "You mean you can take Lexie on that date now that you can drive." 

"Well, it's not like I'm going to wear shorts when I take her out on a first date. I'm not cheap, Lucas." 

Luke pops in the seventh Harry Potter movie and stands up, picking the bowl of popcorn off the coffee table. 

"But the date you've planned doesn't exactly scream  _expensive_ ," he says as he hands the bowl to Michael and flops onto the other end of the couch. 

Michael scowls at Luke as the eerie, familiar theme song of their childhood fills the room. 

"It's not about it being expensive," he mutters, pressing play, "It's just something I said back at the lodge. Think it'll be alright." 

Luke watches the opening credits and the only sound in the room is the intro music. 

"Well, for what it's worth, I think it's actually really sweet." Luke says as Harry interrogates the goblin on screen. 

Michael throws popcorn at him. 

"No, I'm saying it's a good thing," Luke squeaks, kicking Michael's socked feet, "Very romantic." 

"Don't sound so surprised," Michael murmurs, put out, "I'm plenty romantic."

"You've got me convinced," Luke says belatedly, eye glued to the TV as Hermione walks up the sand dune dressed as Bellatrix. 

" _Hooray_ ," Michael grumbles sarcastically. 

Luke glances at him. 

Michael sticks out his tongue. 

Luke snorts and turns back to the screen. 

"Watch the damn movie." 

"Yes, sir." 

 

To: Lexie 

 _Luke's being mean_

_I'm being abused_

 

From: Lexie

 _Would you like a dummy?_

 

 

To: Lexie

 _Why does evry1 hate me_

 

From: Lexie

 _Cos you have red hair_

 

To: Lexie

 _R u saying I'm a_ _?_

 

From: Lexie

_No_

_There wasn't a better emoji for red hair_

_But if you want to be a rooster then go ahead_

 

To: Lexie

 _Not what I meant_

 

From: Lexie 

_I know_

 

"Put the phone down or I will throw it in the washing machine." Luke hisses at him. "You can't text during Harry Potter. It's a federal crime." 

"Your face is a federal crime." 

"Did it hurt your brain to come up with that?"

"Not more than it hurts to have a face like yours."

 

*

 

Michael has a vague idea of what he wants to do but Jesus, coming up with a good date idea is so much harder than he ever thought. 

Maybe it's because she means something more, his brain supplies as he's sitting on his bed and staring at his guitar. 

He groans, falling backwards onto his bed, dragging his palms down his face. 

It's almost midnight and the rest of the house is silent, but his stereo was on low, playing, funnily enough, their first album. 

But their last song fades into a song he’d never actually listened to even though Ashton had sent it to him years ago. To be honest, he mostly can’t be bothered to get up and change it to a different playlist but the chorus begins and he stares at the sky upside down, at the stars faint in the vast expanse of black velvet.

Michael decides, that on _no_ account, are the boys to find out that he likes this song.

But he suddenly has an idea.

A grin grows on his face as pieces fall together in his head, and he springs up, grabbing his phone and sending a frantic text to the boys.

 

*

 

Three days later, after extensive planning and re-planning and planning again, a minor panic attack on Michael’s part, he has a solid plan for The Date.

(Yes, capitalised. It’s all Calum’s fault.)

“So, have you actually texted her yet?” Ashton asks as they lounge around four boxes of pizza, _Anchorman_ playing in the background. He sips on a beer.

Michael fiddles with his own bottle, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

A balled-up tissue hits him in the face.

“You know that she actually has to be free on Saturday for this to work out, right?”

“Shut up, Luke.”

Calum lurches forward onto the coffee table suddenly and before Michael knows what’s happening, he’s tapping away at _Michael’s_ phone and there’s a _whoosh_ as a message darts away.

Michael sets the bottle down on the table.

“Did you fucking text her?” He demands, scrambling over Luke’s legs to get at a smirking Calum.

“Well, it’s not like you were going to do it,” the bassist says with a roll of his brown eyes, “Calm the fuck down. ‘Course she’s going to say yes.”

“Fuck you—”

His phone chimes.

Michael launches himself at Calum, grabbing the phone out of his hand, elbowing him in the crotch and settles back into his own seat, unlocking his phone in a daze as Calum groans in the background.

“You fucking _arse_.”

He’s not paying attention.

 

_To: Lexie_

_You free on Saturday?_

_From: Lexie_

_Saturday?_

_…_

_Is this for that date you promised me?_

Michael swear he doesn’t breath for a solid few seconds.

“Well?” Ashton asks, and Michael looks up at him, lips twitching.

 

_To: Lexie_

_I don’t know, that depends if you’re free or not_

 

“For fuck’s sake, Mike,” Luke says, leaning over his shoulder, eyes following the texts. He jabs Michael in the ribs.

He squirms, pushing Luke away, “No, don’t _poke_ me.”

 

_From: Lexie_

_I’m free_

_To: Lexie_

_Yay! :D_

_I’ll pick you up at seven ;)_

_What’s your address??_

_From: Lexie_

_I really hope you’re not going to make me sit on a beach or something_

_30 Prince Street Willoughby_

_It’s near Chatswood_

Michael snorts a laugh. ‘Course it is.

 

_To: Lexie_

_I’m not the beach type babe_

_Oh my god, you’re a north shore kid_

_From: Lexie_

_Yeah, that’s why your so pale_

_I’m sorry, is that too snobbish for you?_

_To: Lexie_

_I’m pale because I’m a vampire_

_Hence my other worldly beauty_

_Hahaha, north shore kids_

_From: Lexie_

_SMH_

_I’ll see you Saturday, Michael_

_To: Lexie_

_;)_

_See ya :D_

“Well?”

“She sais yes.” Michael’s grin is a little uncontrolled, straining at the edges, a little loopy and the three boys laugh.

“Oh my god, tone down the heart eyes, we’re a punk rock band,” Calum mock-grumbles, putting his beer to his lips.

Michael chucks the nearest cushion at him and the beer spills down his shirt.

“Shit.”

Michael scrambles up and dashes for Ashton’s bathroom, swearing loudly as Calum storms after him.

*

 

Michael’s nervous, he has to admit. The car is idling on the curb, the gentle hum of the engine resonating in his ears, butterflies in his stomach. Closing his eyes, he drags in a breath and holds it until burning need forces his mouth open to breathe again.

His heart settles down out of his throat.

Shaking fingers twist the key and the engine dies, the sound of his breathing the loudest sound he can hear.

Michael heaves out a breath and pushes open the door, stepping out into the quiet hush of the cold, winter night. His breath billows in white smoky clouds in front of him.

The house looms in front of him like a fortress, white-washed and impenetrable, a light in the front windows. He stands at the bottom of the porch stairs for a good five minutes, fiddling with the bracelets on his wrist.

“Well,” Michael whispers, putting his foot on the first step, “Here we go.”

The door bell clangs through the house and he chews on the inside of his lip, fingers tapping on his cast as the seconds tick on before the heavy wooden door swings open.

The girl in the doorway startles for a barely noticeable second and grins wide.

“Hi.”

Michael smiles questioningly, “Hi…”

The girl scoffs a laugh, turning around and yelling, “Lexie, hurry up! I can’t hold the door open forever!”

A faint holler echoes to wear Michael is standing. “Oh my god, I’ll be down in a second, Sel!”

Michael presses his smile into the back of his hand.

The girl in the doorway rolls her eyes and turns back to him, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” He says with a wave of his hand, his nerves settling.

“I’m Lexie’s sister, by the way,” the girl says, “Selena.”

Michael nods, “Cool, I’m Michael.”

“Yeah, I know, she hasn’t shut up since she got back from the snow.”

“Really—”

But his startled question is cut off by Lexie appearing in the doorway with a flushed grin.

“Don’t lie to the pop star, Sel,” she says, catching Michael’s eyes, “They have bad habits of believing you.”

He grins, his cheeks pulling up hard as he licks his lip, “True.”

“Oh my god, please leave me in peace and flirt elsewhere,” Selena groans, shoving Lexie out the door before shutting it in their faces.

Michael and Lexie share a long, startled look before laughing.

“I’m sorry, my sister hasn’t quite achieved her badge of patience yet,” she says as she fixes the strap of her purse on her shoulder.

“Nah, she’s fine. But _you’re_ late.”

Lexie rolls her eyes, “You’re bloody early, it’s just seven.”

Michael shrugs, “Didn’t want to be late, s’all.” He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, “You look gorgeous by the way.”

She’s wearing a white leather jacket over a black shirt and black jeans with black boots and her hair is loose down her back, dark and glossy under the porch light and Michael’s taken back to the first time he saw her at Woolworths.

Lexie blushes lightly and simultaneously manages to look irritated and delighted, “Thanks. You...uh, you look good too.”

He’d really just thrown on his only _good,_ un-holey pair of black skinny jeans, a black muscle shirt and black leather jacket. The only colourful thing about his was his red hair.

“Thanks,”  he leads her down the stairs to the road and to his car.

“Where’re we going?” Lexie asks as she straps in her seatbelt and Michael grins at her, revving the engine.

“City.”

She makes a curious face, letting out an intrigued hum.

“Just hold up, babe.”

She hits his arm.

“Oi, I’m driving, don’t get us killed! Also _ow._ ”

 

*

 

“Dinner first, yeah?” Michael murmurs as they stroll down past the IMAX. He kind of really wants to hold her hand but, well, it’s their first date and they’ve barely known each other for a few weeks.

Lexie laughs as he leads her into the Hard Rock Café, clicking his finger at the guy at counter. The waiter winks at Michael with a tilt of his lips.

“You sure you aren’t going to burst your bank account with this?” She asks with a grin as they’re led to a table in the corner of the restaurant, looking out over the harbour’s glistening water and luxury boats lining the docks.

Michael rolls his eyes, pulling out her chair, “I’ll have you know this cost a hell of a lot.”

Lexie sniggers, blushing as she takes a seat with a soft thanks.

They have dinner amidst a lot of sarcasm and biting remarks, side long glances and hurried glances away, heat clinging to cheeks and shy smiles.

A candle burns away slowly in the middle of the table, a soft glow over the two of their faces.

Michael watches as Lexie finishes her burger, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It widens when she looks up straight into his eyes and she ducks her head, embarrassed.

“Don’t do that,” he murmurs, and like the giant, cliché _moron_ that he is, he reaches across the table to touch her hand, rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand.

Lexie sucks in a quiet breath.

He draws his hand back, heat bleeding down his neck, “You ready for the next part?”

Her eyes widen, “There’s _more?”_

Michael snorts, getting to his feet and holding out his left hand for her to take, “You didn’t really think I’d just take you to dinner, did you?”

Lexie shrugs, “I didn’t really think anything.”

He slips his hand into hers as they walk along the water, his fingers sliding between hers, teeth digging into his bottom lip for a moment. His heart pounds.

Michael shrugs. “I know I promised marshmallows and a bonfire under the stars but this is the best I could do.”

She rolls her eyes, “Michael, I wasn’t serious, this is brilliant.”

He ignores the ecstatic lurching of his heart as he snorts, “That’s not what I meant.” He nods towards the water.

“Oh my _god._ ” Lexie gapes at the sight in front of her where they’d stopped walking.

Michael grins as they approach the brightly lit boat, tugging on her hand, “C’mon. We’ve got a boat to catch.”

 

*

 

The big luxury boat moves out of it’s docking place as soon as the two of them clamber on to the deck.

Lexie very quickly realises that they’re the only two people on the boat, besides the captain and one crew member.

“Welcome aboard _The Summer Wind,”_ the lady says with a warm smile, “You’re welcome to head inside the cabin, Mr Clifford.”

Michael nods, “Thanks, Mel.”

He holds the door open for Lexie before stepping through himself.

“ _The Summer Wind?”_ Lexie raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

He grins, “I couldn’t resist.”

So when Feldy had said that he knew a good company to hire boats from, Michael hadn’t expected such an awesome outcome.

The cabin looks out over Sydney Harbour as they glide through the water, lights twinkling off the railing outside and spilling into the softly lit cabin.

Funnily enough, there’s a dessert bar on the side of the room, stretching with everything from Crème Brulée to Chocolate cheesecake to Apple Crumble with cream.

“Oh my god,” Lexie murmurs, turning around slowly in circle, eyes wide, “This is amazing.”

Michael gapes out the windows, “I wasn’t expecting _this_ when I hired the boat.”

Lexie steps up next to him, taking his hand in her own, “I can’t believe you went to all this trouble.”

He turns to face her, smiling softly in the warm darkness of the room, and bring their hands up to twist them palm to palm, their fingers intertwining, her hand engulfed by his.

“You’re worth everything I spend and more,” he whispers into the space between them, eyes caught on her dark brown eyes, shining from the lights that pass by as the boat cruises into the middle of the harbour.

She says nothing but there’s a gentle pressure on his fingers as she turns back to face the view. Michael catches the smile curled into her cheeks.

As the boat continues to glide through the wave-less water, Michael pulls Lexie over to the dessert bar.

Something catches his eyes.

Marshmallows next to a small chocolate fountain.

A grin spills across his mouth.

As Lexie goes in search of the cutlery down the tables of desserts, Michael stabs several marshmallows with a skewer and coats them in warm milk chocolate.

She blushes to the roots of her hair when he feeds her the first piece.

Mel knocks on the door just as they stack their plates on a side table.

“Mr Clifford, if you would like to head outside, it’s about to start.” She says and Michael _swears_ she winked at him.

“What’s about to start?” Lexie mumbles as he leads her outside onto the front deck, to the curved point right at the front of the boat.

But Michael shakes his head, a finger pressed to his lips, “Wait and see.”

The winds that flows past them is icy and Lexie shudders beneath her jacket. Michael tugs her into a hug.

“Sorry, babe, boat’ll stop in a sec.”

She huddles closer to him and he rests his chin on top of her head with a smile, stomach warm.

A few minutes later, the boat does stop, the engines cut out and there’s silence. A soft hush falls over them.

The wind dies.

Michael counts the seconds in his head, hoping that this would work—

A plume of pink-orange shoots upwards in front of them, glittering sparkles raining down over the harbour with a massive explosion.

Another green one explodes into the sky.

Lexie jumps, turning around in Michael’s arms with wide, disbelieving eyes, burning colours reflected in her eyes as the fireworks fill the midnight blue sky.

He beams down at her, tucking her hair behind her ear.

“Fireworks,” Lexie whispers, “You hired a boat to show me fireworks.”

Michael shrugs with a vague smile, “Well…yeah, I did.”

She stares at him like she doesn’t know what to say, eyes a deep, dark brown, “I…you’re such a sap.”

That startles a laugh out of him and he squeezes her waist.

“Sorry.” He says, tongue pressed to his teeth and his lips curled into a grin.

She huffs a breath, looks away from him and up into the sky, watching the colours fill the sky. Michael does the same, heart settling in his chest, his breath shaky.

There’s a countdown to the finale and Michael gently pulls Lexie to face him, his pulse rocketing with uncertainty, and cups her jaw.

“So what’d you reckon,” he murmurs, letting a smile curl around his mouth, “Good first date?”

She says nothing for a moment, but nods once, twice, before curling her hand around his hip. “Yeah. Good first date.”

Michael leans down to kiss her just as the last fireworks explode into the sky in a cacophony of noise, the sky burning red and gold.

 

*

 

The drive home is silent, their ears ringing and fingers tangled over the gear stick.

When he pulls up in front of her house, it’s dark and silent and far less imposing to Michael.

“You going to walk me to the front door, Michael?” Lexie teases as she gets out of the car, but her smile is worn at the edges, soft and warm.

“’Course I am,” he says and follows her up the stairs.

They stop under the porch, facing each other.

“When’s your cast coming off?” Lexie asks suddenly.

He shrugs. “Couple weeks, three maybe.” He pauses, studying the tiles, “You wanna come with me?”

“If you want me to,” she grins wide, “I can watch you be annoyed when your arm is two different colours.”

Michael snorts, and then stops abruptly. “Wait. My arm is going to be two different colours?”

“Obviously. You’d have tanned around it, or something. Like a zebra.”

He groans.

“I don’t even go out to get tanned. _I don’t tan.”_

Lexie laughs, pulling out her house keys, “Sucks to be you.”

“I hate you.” Michael feels a shroud of sadness settling over him as their night comes to an end. “Well. I’ll see you soon?”

Lexie smiles. “Yeah. You probably will.”

“You gotta meet the boys soon, you know.”

“ _No,”_ she groans softly, “ _Why_.”

Michael grins, “Because they want to meet you.”

Lexie mutters something about stupid demanding pop stars and Michael leans down to kiss her, because he can.

She pulls away with a roll of her eyes. “ _G’night_ , Michael.”

He chuckles, pressing his mouth to her cheek. “Night, Lexie,” He whispers and turns to leave.

Michael turns around at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the girl standing shadowed at the top with a grin.

She waves.

He salutes back, watches until she opens the door and hops into his car.

His head thumps back onto the headrest.

“Oh my god,” he exhales heavily, rubbing his palms down his face. “It didn’t fail spectacularly.”

Luke’s still awake when Michael gets back to his house, curled up on Michael’s bed and tapping away at his phone.

He looks up when Michael walks in, shutting the door behind him.

“ _Well?”_ Luke questions, a smirk across his mouth.

“It was amazing,” Michael starfishes onto his bed and grins dopily at his ceiling.

“Jesus, go to sleep, Mikey, you’re so high.”

“High on love, Lucas,” he slurs with a smile, hands tucked behind his head, his cast digging awkwardly into his skull. He can’t be bothered to care. “She’s so awesome.”

Luke shoves a pillow in his face. “Please go to sleep.”

“You’re just jealous.”

“Shut up and go to sleep.”

“ _Jeaaaloousss—ow! Fucking hell, you didn’t have to kick my balls, Luke!”_

“Just, go the fuck to sleep then!”

 

*

 

Michael walks out of the hospital feeling like a free man.

Except for the fact that Lexie was right and his arm is two different colours.

She’s laughing beside him as they sneak out the back entrance to where Michael’s mum is waiting in the car.

“At least it’s not completely different,” she giggles, “Good thing that you’re not prone to going out.”

He grumbles, rubbing at his arm where there’s a barely imperceptible change in skin colour. Truth be told, he’s just paler where the cast was.

As they walk up to the car, Michael looks down at the girl beside him and remembers the first time Lexie had met his parents.

_“Mum, dad, this is Lexie.”_

_Karen had smiled and extended a hand, “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.”_

_“You too, Mrs Clifford,” Lexie had replied and Michael’s father had grinned._

_“You’re too polite for Michael, Lexie,” Daryl had said, shaking her hand as well. “So, what are you studying?”_

_Michael had scowled._

_Lexie had chuckled, “Actuarial studies and Law at UNSW.”_

_“She’s way too smart for you, kiddo,” Daryl had laughed as he ruffled Michael's hair, “Now come on, lunch is ready.”_

_Karen had slapped her husband’s arm but her eyes had sparkled in amusement, “Be nice to your son, Daryl.”_

_“Yeah, dad, be nice to me,” Michael had grumbled, pouting._

_Daryl had just laughed and walked out to the barbeque._

Michael thinks that it’s fitting that his parents like Lexie more than they actually like him.

Karen looks up with a smile as they scramble into the car, “Feel better, baby?”

“I’m not a baby, mum,” Michael retorts but grins, “Yeah, I feel like a new person.”

“So maybe you can go home and unload the dishwasher for me,” Karen says as she starts the car and pulls out of the parking slot.

Michael groans in defeat.

Lexie just smirks in the backseat.

 

*

 

Okay, so, Lexie is marginally freaking out.

At least, as far as Michael can tell. Because, his boys are in his living room—god knows why, Michael hadn’t asked them to come over—and Lexie totally wasn’t prepared to be thrown into a band full of a thirteen foot giant, a twenty year old puppy and an old family friend she hasn’t seen in like, five years.

As Karen heads up, Lexie stalls in the garage doorway, listening to the sounds of the three boys in the living room, and Michael almost walks into her.

“You didn’t tell me they were coming!” She squeaks at him.

“I didn’t _know_ they were coming,” Michael grumbles, glaring out towards the living area. He takes her hand and tugs her through into the hallway. “Dad, why’d you let these idiots in?!”

Daryl chuckles from the kitchen. “Didn’t leave me much choice, did they? Barged in here like they owned the place.”

Michael groans loud enough that the voices in the living room stop before three bodies dash out in a screaming fit.

Lexie wisely removed herself from Michael’s side as he’s attacked.

“Mikey!”

“You’re fixed again!”

“How’re you feeling?”

Michael fights them off with a screech, “Worse since you three turned up.”

Luke pouts at him until he spots Lexie behind him. He whacks Calum in the chest. “Oi. You gonna introduce us, Michael?”

Michael has a very good mind to say no and kindly fuck off thank you, but he doesn’t.

“Don’t need to, do I?” he says instead, turning around to pull at Lexie’s hand with a grin, “She knows plenty about you lot.”

Ashton snorts. “We don’t know her, idiot.”

Calum rolls his eyes and Michael wants to slap him a little when he turns to Lexie with a grin. “Hey, long time no see.”

“Well, if you hadn’t gone off to become a star, we’d probably still be having dinner in a backyard somewhere every three months.” Lexie says and Michael’s smile could’ve fit a double decker bus as he tugs her into his side.

“Isn’t my fault that I’m so talented,” Calum snaps playfully, a grin caught in his mouth, “Is it?”

Lexie rolls her eyes. “If it helps you sleep.”

Ashton laughs out loud, “Oh I like you.”

Michael snorts, a smug smile tugging at his cheeks. “Well, too bad.”

Lexie hits his chest. “I’m not your property, arsehole.”

“We’re going to get along great,” Luke declares cheerfully.

“Only if you tell me what your ATAR was,” Lexie’s cheeky smile is kind of ridiculously attractive to Michael. She’s fucking evil.

Her laughter threads through Luke’s and Ashton’s pained groans.

Michael grins, and pressed his lips to the side of her head. “You’re fucking awesome.”

Lexie shrugs almost innocently. “What? I’m curious.”

Luke grumbles as the five of them head to the living room. “Yeah, curiosity killed the cat.”

“There’s no cat to kill,” Lexie says and her eyes sparkle with amusement, “I just wanna know.”

Ashton snorts. “And what’d you get, 99.95?”

“I’m not answering that till you tell me what you got.”

Luke curls up into the cushions and picks up a bag of salt and vinegar chips. “Well I think I’ll just assume you did and leave it at that.”

Ashton jumps into the seat next to the blonde, jostling the chips and huddles into his side. “Yeah, no. I’d rather not remember the trauma I went through.”

Lexie sighs. “How tragic. Well, don’t quit your day jobs is the message.”

Michael pulls her down next to him, “Can we _please_ stop talking about school, I fucking dropped out for a reason.”

Calum laughs. “I can’t believe you’re dating a drop out, Lexie, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

The sudden strangled cough that comes from Luke startles them all until Michael realises what he’s laughing about. Ashton’s chortling silently into Luke’s shoulder.

He chucks a nearby cushion at Luke’s head, “Oh fucking _shut up,_ Luke.”

Lexie starts choking next to him when she realises what’s going on.

Calum plonks down on an armchair and groans simultaneously with Michael.

“I fucking hate this band.”

 

*

 

"Wow, dude," Calum says as he walks into the studio, "All these were waiting at HQ. Man, it's almost been three months and you're still being coddled by our fans." 

He's carrying two bouquets of flowers and two packets of cards. 

Michael grins. "Aw. They're so cute."

"I'll show you cute." Calum mutters, dropping everything on the floor next to a couch. 

"Hey! Careful with that!" Michael exclaims, "They took a lot of time with those things."

"Alright, alright, break it up." Marcus says, shaking his head, "Mike, man, you said you had something to show us."

Michael opens his laptop and pulls up the file. 

"So, I wrote this before I almost died--"

A bunch of flowers whack him in the face, petals filling his mouth. 

Marcus sighs. "Boys, please."

"What the fuck, Calum?" He glares as the spits out petals, wiping away the taste from his tongue.

Calum glares right back. "Shut up."

Michael rolls his eyes. "Okay. Sorry." He looks back down at the screen. "Why don't you just listen to it?" 

He swallows nervously, staring at the title, before pressing play. 

The guitar intro starts and Michael closes his eyes and leans back, his foot tapping along the beat and mouthing along with the words. 

When the song comes to its inevitable end, there's a silence. 

Michael cringes internally. Yeah, that confirms his suspicions that the song is crap. 

It's Marcus who eventually speaks up. 

"Holy—Michael, that's a  _good_  song," the songwriter says, and Michael opens his eyes, surprised, "A few tweaks and it'll be a  _sick_  track for the album." 

Michael sits up, the leaden feeling in his stomach evaporating. "Wait, really?"

Calum grins at him from across the room. "It's brilliant, dude, I love it. Luke and Ash will too."

Marcus opens the file that Michael had given him, looking through the lyrics and Calum shuffles closer to Michael. 

"You write that about Lexie?"

Michael ducks his head, blushing. 

"I knew it," Calum shoves Michael's side, chuckling. "You really like her, don't you."

"What gave it away? The song I wrote for her?" Michael asks, deadpan. 

Calum rolls his eyes. 

Michael sobers for a second. "Yeah." He looks at his friend, smile genuine, "I really do like her." 

"You gonna tell her?" 

"Which one? That I like her or that I wrote her a song?" 

"Well, I think the song says it all, really." Calum says with a grin. 

Michael snorts. "Yeah. Guess it does." 

"So?" Calum pokes his now healed right arm. "Are you?"

Marcus speaks up from the desk. "How about you perform the song for her at the TCAs?" 

 

* 

 

Michael is about to pee his pants. 

The four of them are backstage, minutes out from the first performance of their new single, the song he wrote for Lexie, and God, he's  _never_  been more nervous in his entire life. His stomach is filled with raving butterflies and he’s nervously fidgeting with the strap of his guitar.

He's startled out of his daze when Ashton hooks an arm around his neck and leans into his side. 

"Hey," he whispers, "It'll be alright. It's gonna be sick and she's gonna love it." 

Michael lets his weight fall on Ashton, sighing. "I don't think she's even  _here_ , Ash."

"She's gonna see it. You know she will," the drummer says, squeezing his shoulder, "C'mon. We're on in like, two." 

Michael nods, smiling gratefully as Ashton pulls away, "Thanks, dude." 

"Always," Ashton says, winking. "Now," he calls out, catching Calum's and Luke's attention, "Who's ready?" 

They pile into a group hug, mostly with Michael in the centre. 

"Alright boys, you're on in less than a minute."

As the countdown continues, Michael rolls his shoulder, gripping his guitar. 

Alright. He could do this. 

"And now," the presenter's voice echoes through the concert hall, "Performing their brand new single, 5 Seconds of Summer!"

They're on the stage and bursting into the song before Michael has time to worry about forgetting chords or lyrics. 

When Luke sings that line, the one line that hard started it all, really, _tell the truth and I'll show you how to dare,_ Michael feels like he's flying, his fingers wild on his guitar, jumping around and grinning like a mad man. 

Michael's jumping up and down next to Calum during his verse when the bassist nudges his side with his elbow. 

He frowns, following the direction of Calum's head nod. 

And he almost stops playing. 

Standing in the crowd of girls near the stage is Lexie.  She waves, mouthing something when he catches her eyes, smile wide on her face.

Michael completely forgets to sing his part of the bridge, staring at the girl in the crowd, but luckily Luke takes over. 

There's a rushing sound in his ears, like floodgates opening, and his heartbeat triples, and he—

Calum mutters a hurried, " _Mikey_." 

He swings around, picking up from wherever Luke was, and the rest of the song flows without much of an incident. 

But Michael can't keep his eyes from Lexie the entire time. 

When they finish, the audience erupts in applause, the girls at the front of the stage screaming. 

The presenter, who Michael belatedly realises, is James Corden, walks up next to them. 

"Brilliant performance, lads, and a brilliant song at that." 

"Thanks, man."

"Thanks."

"So, who wrote it, then?" Corden asks, a secretive smile on his face. "Cos a little birdy told me that a certain band member wrote it for a girl." 

Michael is startled away from Lexie, who's biting back a laugh, when Luke tugs on his arm. 

"I—oh hi, sorry. Yeah, I wrote it." 

Calum's hiding an amused grin behind his hand. 

"I think the girl is in the audience, don't you?" Ashton says cheekily, "Michael seems a bit distracted."

"You  _knew_  she was here," Michael accuses, eyes widening. "I hate you."

The audience is chuckling along and Michael is terrified to even look in Lexie's direction lest she actually hated the song.  

"Are you two dating?" 

Michael nods weakly, "Uh, yeah. We are." 

Corden grins, "Lucky girl, then. Well ladies and gentlemen, you heard it here first. Michael Clifford is officially  _off_  the market. And aren't you right jealous that he's such a romantic? Alright boys, thank you very much."

They stumble off the stage and Michael is swearing at the three of them with every colourful word he can think of. 

One of the staff ushers them into an empty dressing room, eyeing the other acts who're watching Michael yelling at the others, closing the door behind them. The sound of voices suddenly cuts out. 

"...and why the fuck didn't you tell me she was here? She could hate the song oh my god she hated the song didn't she? She's gonna hate me why'd I listen to you oh my god she—"

"Michael, fucking  _shut_   _up_  for a second," Calum hollers over his panicked rambling, "Just. Shut up." 

His mouth snaps shut as he stares at the dark haired boy, a breath caught in his throat.  His heart feels like it's going to pound out of his chest. He's going to be sick. 

"Mike," Luke says, wrapping an arm around his waist, "I'm almost certain she doesn't hate the song." 

Ashton nods. "Yeah, man, she looked like she was enjoying it." 

"See?" Calum says, and then looks at Michael. "Oh for fuck's sake, Michael,  _breathe_."  

His throat makes a clicking noise as he drags in a breath, and then another one, gasping, "Jesus." 

Luke squeezes him in a hug, "Don't stress." 

"C'mon, you're Michael Clifford. Go talk to her. You've been dating for almost five months." Ashton says with a snort. "She  _likes_  you. God knows why." 

Michael takes another deep breath, hacking out a laugh, "Fuck off, Ashton." 

"That's better," the drummer says, grinning. 

"Okay," Michael says, exhaling, "Okay." 

"Atta boy." 

 

* 

 

He asks one of their security guards to get Lexie out into the car park. 

There are at least four or five tour busses and various other black vehicles scattered around the area. 

Michael leans against a black Mercedes near the exit, his foot tapping against the asphalt. 

The door opens a few anxiety-ridden minutes later and Lexie appears. Michael makes it to her in seconds, scooping her up into a hug. 

"Hey," He murmurs into her hair, arms wound around her waist. "God, I've missed you." 

Lexie laughs over his shoulder, fingers digging into his back. "You saw me a two weeks ago." 

"That's long enough for me to miss you," he says, pulling back. He grins then, looking down at her. "And I have missed you." 

Lexie smiles, "Yeah. Missed you too." 

"I knew it!" Michael cheers, and leans down to kiss her. "So, about the song—"

Lexie steps back away from him, crossing her arms. 

"You actually wrote it for me?" She asks, and her eyes are bright under the fluorescent lights. 

"Yeah," Michael grins sheepishly, "I did." 

"Wow, um," Lexie says with a pleased smile, "That's really sweet of you." 

"Sweet?" He chuckles and leans forward, prying her arms apart and taking her hands. "That," he says quietly, slipping his fingers between hers, their palms pressed together, "That was me saying that I love you." 

"You what?" Lexie blurts out, eyes wide in shock. 

"I love you," Michael says, and his heart is in his throat, on his sleeve, and he stares at her with pleading green eyes, his stomach in knots. 

She stares at him with those deep, coffee brown eyes, and the knots in his stomach tighten until he starts to feel a little sick. 

"I—" Michael starts to say but he's cut off when she kisses him. 

He kisses her back, cupping her jaw with one hand and holding her hand with the other. 

Lexie pulls back, looking down at their intertwined fingers. 

"I, um, I love you too," she whispers and glances up, catching his eyes. 

She almost sounds surprised as she says it and Michael's heart thumps against his ribs at the fondness that burns like a wildfire in his blood.

He laughs, relieved and wild, pulling her up onto his shoes and kissing her hard. 

"Thank god," he murmurs against her lips, "Thank all the gods. I love you." 

Lexie's laughing, her fingers in his hair. "If your fans could see you now. You'll be kicked out of the punk rock genre." 

Michael picks her up and swings her around, laughing. "Fuck them." 

Applause rings out across the car park, catcalls echoing off the back walls and Michael almost drops Lexie. 

He sets her on the ground carefully before turning to the door. 

Ashton, Calum, Luke and One Direction are hanging out of the door, matching grins split across their faces. 

Louis and Niall whistle, yelling "Yeahhhhhh," as Harry jumps up and down. 

Zayn and Liam are hanging off each other as usual, hooting. 

His boys are grinning, calling out "I _told you so_ " at him. 

Michael tugs Lexie under her arm, the two of them laughing, and pulls them in the direction of their friends.

They're engulfed in a massive group hug, all ten of them. 

"Well," Harry says to them a while later, Louis plastered to his side, "Welcome to partnered life." 

Michael presses a kiss to Lexie's temple. 

"Thanks, man." 

Louis snorts. "I hope you don't coddle her as much as this one coddles me." 

Lexie rolls her eyes, "I'd kill him before he could try." 

"Nah, but you love me," Michael teases, pinching her hip. 

"I lied. I actually hate you." 

"You love me."

"I hate you."

"You love me."

"I hate you."

"You hate me," Michael says, tongue pressed to his teeth. 

"I love you—Michael," Lexie groans, "I hate you."

He laughs, "Are we really going to start this again?" 

She whacks his arm, "Go away." 

"But you love me."

"If I tell you I love you will you go away?" 

"Sure."

"I love you."

"I love you too." Michael presses a kiss to her mouth and runs away before she can retaliate. 

Lexie watches him go, a smile pulling at her lips and spilling into her cheeks. 

 

_She's dating Michael Clifford and those are words she never thought would come out of her mouth._

_Bloody hell, who knew the high school genius would end up with the high school dropout (turned international super star.)_

                                                                                                           THE END 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked it ahaha :) 
> 
> Thoughts are welcome ^_^


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